Page 218 of It Should Have Been You

“Say my name when you come, Beth.”

I want to throw my head back, but watching him between my legs, working my body like it’s commanding him, I can’t help but stare. His eyes meet mine. There’s a demand there, a warning.

My next moan is too breathy.

Not enough for him.

He begins to suck on my clit, drawing screams from me I’ve never heard before.

Stars begin to cloud the corners of my vision as heat unfurls between my legs. I fill my greedy lungs, and only release air again when the orgasm racks so deeply in my bones, I don’t think I’ll ever stop shaking.

“That’s it, baby. I want to feel you come on my tongue.”

I moan over and over again as he eases me back to earth, slowing his strokes and drawing the orgasm out of me so slowly I’m not sure if it’s too much or if I don’t want it to stop.

With both our chests heaving, he stands and presses a hard kiss to my lips. I can taste my arousal on his mouth, and I moan into his dizzying kiss.

He pulls away too soon, leaving me breathless and wondering what the hell just happened.

Gently, he grabs my hand and helps me to stand, steadying me when my knees lock. His grin is filled with both smug satisfaction and awe when he spins me around to look in the mirror.

I hardly recognize myself. Flushed cheeks, hooded gaze, and lips as red as a blazing fire.

Panic doesn’t settle in. I don’t want to wash it off or scrub my lips until they’re raw. Instead, I roll my shoulders back, stare at the woman looking back at me, and think of the man who painted my lips just moments ago.

He slips my hair away from my shoulder and kisses my neck. “You are stunning.”

Our eyes meet in the mirror.

I wonder if I look different to him now.

Can he see it too?

“I’ll wait downstairs.” Before he leaves, he taps his knuckles against the door frame. “Don’t forget that lipstick.”

When he disappears, I stare down at the tube, expecting memories to surface.

They’re there, but they’re not as potent.

Now I see Logan’s hand as he brought the lipstick to my mouth, his racing heart, and how he worshipped me on his knees.

Tears spring to my eyes.

He’s replacing memories.

He’s teaching me that I have the power to do that.

I might not ever replace the old memories. They might always haunt me. But I can always make new ones.

The power is mine.

Fifty-Four

Logan:Meet me in the studio at three.

Me: Why? I’m not getting another tattoo.

Logan:I’m not a big believer in miracles. Just get your ass overhere and stop asking questions.

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